


Brave

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e05 Escape From the Happy Place, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 12:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: ... The Monster had been thoroughly defeated.  With it’s utter defeat, Eliot had been freed and reclaimed ownership of his body.That really mattered ...Eliot reclaims his body and is brave.





	Brave

There had been a big battle.

The details didn’t matter.

The ragged band of Magicians had won. 

The (remaining) gods, joyous that they were still alive, granted the Magicians a collective boon, which they used to undo what the Library and McAllisters had done and bring free and unregulated magic back to Earth.

That kind of mattered.

The Monster had been thoroughly defeated. With it’s utter defeat, Eliot had been freed and reclaimed ownership of his body.

That really mattered.

Eliot blinked a few times and stared up into the sky from his place on the grass outside Brakebills. Things were still fuzzy, since he’d only had ownership of his body the past few hours. Most of the rest of their motley crew had gone off to celebrate - do some spells, have some sex. Eliot had a vague memory of Margo wandering off with Josh of all people and made a mental note to have a long discussion with her because he had clearly missed a lot while stuck inside his own head.

“El?”

Eliot allowed his head to loll to the side and focused his gaze on the man occupying the grass next to him.

“Q,” Eliot sighed, giving Quentin an almost sappy smile, watching as Quentin rolled onto his side to watch Eliot.

“You okay?” Quentin asked.

“Peachy.” Eliot was still getting his bearings, trying to get used to the feeling of the sun on his face, the grass under his hands.

“Sure about that?” Quentin asked.

Eliot rolled onto his side and tucked his arm under his head as he watched Quentin carefully. He could see the worry in Quentin’s gaze, which was incredibly endearing and gave Eliot a few timid butterflies in his stomach. He reached out and tucked a longish lock of hair behind Quentin’s ear, rubbing Quentin’s jaw with his thumb.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eliot replied, smiling when Quentin leaned into Eliot’s touch and gave a short, breathy laugh.

“Then is now a good time to tell you that I’m pretty sure the Monster had no concept of hygiene and you smell a bit funky?”

“Oh trust me Q, I can smell myself and it’s disgusting,” Eliot said. “And I fully intend to get up in a minute and indulge in a very, very long hot, very hot shower back at the Physical Kids cottage. But I just wanted this for a minute. To feel things for myself.”

“I get it. Feel away.”

Eliot allowed himself another minute or so rubbing Q’s jaw with his thumb, staring at Q while Q stared unabashedly back, before finally getting to his feet and giving a languid stretch.

“Fuck I really do stink,” Eliot said.

“You do,” Quentin replied.

Eliot glanced down, found Quentin grinning at him and suddenly had more butterflies in his stomach.

“Take your time out here,” Eliot said, “but I’m going to head to the cottage and start that shower.”

“I’ll be there before you get out of the shower,” Quentin said.

Eliot gave Quentin a small smile before making his way towards the Physical Kids cottage. Brakebills was bustling; free and unregulated magic had only barely been returned, but everyone clearly felt it. Eliot could see students tossing spells around, levitating their friends, conjuring things - there was a lightness in the air, a freeness not felt for a while.

The door to the cottage practically flung open at Eliot’s touch, as if to welcome him back home. Eliot greeted the other students, pushed past Todd and made his way up to his room, which sat quiet and untouched since his adventures in Fillory and everything with the Monster. A quick spell and the thick film of dust disappeared in a wink. Eliot took a moment to glance around, to appreciate the simple comfort of his room, before stripping out of the incredibly soiled clothes he wore and headed for the bathroom. He incinerated the clothes with a quick spell and then stepped into the shower, getting the water as hot as he could stand before stepping under the spray and just standing.

Eliot didn’t know how long he stood there under the water, casting spell after spell to keep the water hot. He stood under the spray, willing the water to wash away not only the dirt and the grime, but the memories of when his body wasn’t his.

In the midst of trying to get the water to wash the Monster’s touch from his skin, Q’s face suddenly appeared in Eliot’s mind. Quentin, sitting in the throne room in Fillory after remembering their time at the mosaic.

“Be brave,” Eliot whispered to himself. “Be brave.”

Eliot splashed hot water in his face and stepped out from under the spray, keeping Quentin in his thoughts as he washed and conditioned his hair and then scrubbed his body clean.

“Be brave,” Eliot whispered again as he turned off the water off and stepped out of the shower. He tucked a towel around his waist and started wringing the water from his hair with another towel as he re-entered his bedroom and stopped when he found Q perched on the edge of his bed.

“Whereas your room was kept pristine, mine was apparently given away,” Quentin said. “My stuff’s been boxed up and is in some storage room here on campus. I don’t have the energy to figure it out right now, so can I just crash here for now?”

“Crash away,” Eliot replied with a smile.

“Thanks,” Quentin said. “Got anything I can sleep in?”

Eliot swallowed and nodded as he made his way over to his dresser. He grabbed a pair of underwear, sleep pants and a shirt for himself before glancing over his shoulder at Quentin.

“You’re welcome to anything in my dresser,” Eliot said. “Feel free to change while I’m in the bathroom.” Without waiting for a response, Eliot practically ran back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the door for a few moments and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his bearings again. The butterflies at bay, Eliot got dressed and ran a bit of product through his hair, put moisturizer on his face, checked his nails … 

“You’re stalling,” Eliot said quietly. “Be brave.” He rested his hands on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror for a few more minutes before turning around, taking a deep breath and exiting the bathroom.

“Still doing peachy?” Quentin asked from his spot on Eliot’s bed.

Eliot stopped in the doorway and looked at Quentin for a few minutes - Quentin had dug up a pair of green flannel sleep pants and a plain white t-shirt.

“Still doing peachy,” Eliot murmured as he crossed the room and sat down next to Quentin, butterflies taking flight once again in his stomach.

“So,” Quentin said softly.

Eliot reached out and took one of Quentin’s hands in his, twining their fingers together.

“So,” Eliot replied. “I going to tell you something personal now. When I get scared, I run.”

“El -”

“No, hear me out, Q. I run. Not from monsters or dangerous situations. But I run, and I run from deep interpersonal things. Like suddenly being confronted with a good, beautiful, brave man who loves me. And I fucked it up then, in the throne room in Fillory. But I don’t want to fuck it up now.”

“Eliot,” Quentin said.

“No,” Eliot said. “I love you, Q. And you were right. Who gets that proof of concept?”

“El -”

Eliot leaned in and claimed Quentin’s lips in a sweet kiss, his free hand entrenching itself in Quentin’s hair, tugging him close. He broke the kiss moments later and pressed his forehead to Quentin’s, breathing slow and deep.

“Not going to run anymore,” Eliot said. “Not from this. Not from you.”

“Brave man,” Quentin murmured.

“I learned it from you, Q,” Eliot whispered, kissing Quentin again. “The being brave thing.”

“From me, huh?” Quentin murmured.

“Beautiful, brave man,” Eliot breathed, giving Quentin another kiss. “I want to kiss you always.”

“Feel free to kiss me as often as you want,” Quentin whispered.

“You might regret that,” Eliot said, releasing his hold on Quentin’s hair and pushing Quentin down on the bed.

“Don’t think I will,” Quentin said, falling back on the bed with a smile. “I missed this.”

“I did, too,” Eliot said as he maneuvered the two of them under the covers. “And at some point I want to have copious amounts of sex, perhaps in public.”

“We’ll talk about the in public thing later,” Quentin said as he rested his head on Eliot’s chest. “But yes, copious amounts of sex. Later. But I suspect you really want to sleep.”

“I’m exhausted,” Eliot admitted. “Very exhausted.”

“Sleep, El,” Quentin murmured. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. Promise.”

“Good,” Eliot mumbled as his eyes drifted closed. “Peaches and plums, motherfucker.”

“Peaches and plums.”


End file.
